


Simple Pleasures

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M, None - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 03:57:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair buys girl scout cookies. Jim wants cookies. Jim gets cookies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple Pleasures

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by real life, to some extent. Sorry there's no sex scene....

## Simple Pleasures

by Ann Teitelbaum

Author's disclaimer: Not intended to infringe upon any held copyrights.

* * *

Simple Pleasures  
Ann Teitelbaum 

A knock came at the door just as Jim was sitting down to dinner. Grumbling to himself, he opened it up to find Kristin from down the hall. "Hi, Kristin," he greeted the ten-year-old. 

"Hi Jim, is Blair home?" 

"Nope, he's at school til 9 tonight; anything I can do for you?" 

"Well, he ordered some cookies for our cookie drive, and they're here now. Do you want to take them?" 

"Sure," Jim replied, feeling a bit bad that he hadn't been home to place an order himself. "How much do we owe you?" 

"Sixty-three dollars," she read off her folded order sheet. 

"What??" 

Kristin looked up at him fearfully. "I can just wait for Blair," she hastily assured. 

"No, no, that's okay, but how many boxes did he order?" 

"Twenty-one," Kristin replied. "I have them here," as she stepped aside to gesture at the row of cartons in the hallway. 

Jim rolled his eyes, not at all sure what the hell would've possessed Sandburg to buy this many cookies. "Let me get my checkbook." 

* * *

Jim sat at his desk, frustrated with the computer, frustrated with Simon, and frustrated with Blair for being late this morning. They hadn't even had time to talk about the cookies, what with the robbery call they'd received just as Blair had arrived home. 

His hearing caught his lover's laugh from down the hallway, and that was just one more irritant. How dare he be dawdling happily along when Jim was waiting for him? He bent to glare at the papers on his desk when he heard Blair's voice call out, "Cookie pick-up starts now!" to the room. 

Jim had been through fire-fights, riots, even a Marilyn Manson concert, but nothing could compare to the sight of 15 cops all in pursuit of girl scout cookies. Jim feared for his partner's life, but didn't dare wade in to help. Blair was clever, he'd find someone to hide behind. 

When the dust had settled, and the din had died down, Blair made his way over, loose bills clutched in his hand, hair flying everywhere, clothes disheveled, and a grin a mile wide on his face. 

"Hey, Jim!" his lover greeted. "Thanks for taking the cookies last night! So, it was sixty-three, right?" Before Jim could speak, Blair was pressing the wad of money into his hand. With one lone box of thin mints left, he leaned over and said, "Wish me luck -- I'm going in." Again not letting Jim speak, he made his way toward Simon's office, knocking only as he opened the door. At least the kid was smart enough to have the cookies lead the way. 

* * *

"So, that's a lot of girl scout cookies, Chief," Jim hazarded as they drove home that evening. "I was wondering what kind of binge you were going on when Kristin told me 21 boxes...." 

"Hey, I know how these kids depend on their parents to get them buyers, and I know Kristin's mom is out on disability, so it seemed the least I could do, y'know? And besides, it's not like these guys aren't buying junk out of the vending machines every day anyways." 

"So, how many did you end up getting for us?" Jim asked, not wanting to think about looking at the brightly-colored boxes until summer. 

"Us?" 

"Yeah," Jim said, equally confused. "As in you and me, the people who live together, eat together, shop together. Keep a joint checking account that I paid Kristin out of. Us." 

"But Jim, I really try not to eat a lot of processed sugar. And I thought you said they were just stale, overpriced cardboard sold by slaves of the cookie companies. I was so proud of you for that," Blair confessed. 

"So you didn't get us any?" Jim asked, trying to ignore most of what Blair had said, zeroing in on the most important part. "None at all?" 

"But Jim...." 

"Sandburg, I've been smelling mint, and lemon, and peanut butter all day! I've watched fights break out over the last of the milk in the 'fridge. I'm primed, I'm ready, this is about the only time I'm ever going to actually want these stupid things -- and now you tell me we don't have any?!" 

"Woah, Jim, settle down!" 

"No way, Scrooge, you just go over to Kristin's and tell her we need a box of cookies! First choice is the lemon ones, second choice is those tagalongs. I'm telling you, Chief, I'm not letting you back in without some kind of cookies!" 

"Man, Jim, okay, all right already! You know, this is probably a result of all the caffeine you drink...." 

"Sandburg! Get going!" And Jim parked the truck, got out, and stalked upstairs briskly. 

* * *

Blair couldn't believe what he was doing -- knocking on his own door. The things he did for his sentinel.... 

Jim opened the door, doing a double-take at his lover. "Well? Did you get them?" 

Stepping past Jim, Blair mumbled, "What do you think?" 

"But I know they're home, their mail wasn't in the box downstairs!" 

"Jim," Blair felt the smile breaking through, "what do you smell?" 

"Smell?" 

"Yeah, Mister Sentinel, what do you smell?" 

Jim paused, then sniffed. "Lemon cookies!" A pause, "With coconut? And chocolate?" 

Blair made for the stairs, teasing, "What you find you can keep, big guy!" 

End 


End file.
